Coop and Tilda
I hold Owen tight, trying to do like Danksbury said and send all the love I can into this little fortress of a man. He squeezes me back, which I take as a good sign. “I’ll hang up a punching bag. Tear that thing to shreds. Or you can smash garden gnomes with my boss. And I promise not to call you anything you don’t want me to. That was your mom’s name for you, man. I get it. I’m sorry. Tell you what. You can give me a nickname. Anything you want. The dumber the better, and I have to answer to it for the whole day.”
He shakes his head against my flannel shirt. That or he’s wiping his nose on it. Doesn’t really matter to me at this point. If he’s not screaming that he hates me, that’s a win. He pushes away, and his hands on my shoulders feel frighteningly small. “Nope. You’re gonna answer to it for a week.”
I reach over to mess up his hair. “You think so, huh, tough guy?”
He nods and smiles, then wipes his nose with his sleeve. “Yeah, ‘cause you feel guilty and I’m gonna take advantage of that, St. Lames.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Hold up. Where did you get that?”
He shoves away from me and walks over to his bed to pick up Toast. “Where do you think, genius? I like her. Don’t screw it up.”
I laugh and stand up, and we both do a pretty good job I think of pretending we don’t have red, puffy eyes, runny noses, and wobbly smiles. “I’ll do my best. She sent me in here with this, by the way. For Toast.”
I pull out the ribbon and tie it around Toast’s neck. The silver beacon and blue ribbon look pretty good against his black fur. “It’ll have to do for now until we can buy him a real cat collar.”
Owen examines the beacon. “Yeah, but he’s keeping this. It’s cool.”
* * *
Tilda
We’re almost through with breakfast when the storm hits. It starts with a bank of heavy, gray clouds that seem to appear out of nowhere and blanket the sky. We only really have moments to register that before the wind hits. It buffets the solid lodge and howls through the trees. And when the snow starts, it drives sideways with the force of it all. We’re clearing away our plates and deciding on a board game when Alan stomps into the living area, brushing snow off his coat and boots and onto the carpet as he goes. “Try lighting a cigarette out there. Crap weather. What kind of an idiot animal runs out of a safe house and into that?”
Cold settles into my stomach. I meet Coop’s eyes over Owen’s head just before he turns to face Alan. “What animal?”
Alan flops on the couch and doesn’t even look over at Coop. “The black brain damaged thing. I say let nature weed it out.”
Owen starts shaking so hard he drops his glass of orange juice. “Toast! No!”
He bolts for the door and makes it all the way there before Coop catches him and folds him up in his arms. “Owen, not like that. You can’t go out there without shoes and gear. Listen to me. We’re gonna find him. That charm on his collar? That’s a beacon.”
The secret to these mountains is have it before you need it. Goosebumps cover my skin. If I ever see Hattie again, I might just kiss her. I run over and retrieve the GPS unit from the pouch.
Coop faces the others in the room. “We could still use some help. We can cover more ground if we spread out in a line and search.”
Seamus shakes his head. “Nobody can see in that storm, son. We can’t let anyone else get lost, cute as that kitten is. You won’t be able to see the lodge from five feet away.”
I reach for my coat. “Then we’ll get some rope. Tie it around our waists, so that we’re all anchored together, and then tie one end to the lodge. We’re stronger together, but nobody has to go who doesn’t want to.”
I haven’t even finished talking and Seamus storms out of the room, only to come back with a serious length of rope and an armful of old, heavy snowsuits, all about his size but in good shape, nonetheless. “You’re not going out there in those coats. Put these on.”
Ms. Danksbury starts to take one of the suits from Seamus, but Coop leans down and whispers something to Owen. Owen shakes his head frantically, but then Coop whispers again. This time, Owen nods. He squares his shoulders, walks over to Ms. Danksbury, and takes her hand. “What do you say we stay on the porch? Someone needs to make sure the rope stays anchored to the deck, and someone needs to be there in case Toast comes back on his own.”
She lays one hand on his cheek. “That sounds very wise to me. I’ve seen a lot of young men in my life, Owen. You are something special, and you and Toast are going to be alright.”
He dives at her and gives her a ferocious hug, then steps back and squares his shoulders. “Let’s do this, HQ.”
She giggles. “HQ. I quite like that.”
After we all don the mostly oversized snowsuits, Coop and I head out with Isaac, Laurel, and Fran. I grip the GPS with one hand and my hood with the other. The snow blows so hard it stings, and it’s hard to hear anything over the howling wind. Coop leans in close. “We gotta hurry. Lead the way.”
I swallow and wipe the screen. Nothing. I take a few steps forward, then turn in a slow half circle. The screen stays black, and when I glance back up at Coop, I shake my head. His mouth presses into a flat line. “We’ll find him.”
We better, is what he doesn’t say. The last thing that boy needs is another death in his life.
Together, using the ropes to feel the other’s positions, we try to cover the area in front of the lodge in a straight-ish line. I’m thankful for the heavy coat Seamus found. The temperatures are bitter, and my lips are already numb. The cold and snow have already cut through my gloves, making it difficult to hold the GPS. The screen is still empty, and I’m about to resort to screaming Toast’s name when I feel a tug.
Coop tugs me to him. “Laurel thinks she heard something.”
I’m skeptical of anyone hearing anything in this storm, but with nothing better to go on, I nod and follow the rope to the side of the deck where Laurel and Isaac were searching. We’d gone maybe six feet, hard to tell in the white out, when a tiny red light flashes on my screen. I smack Coop’s arm and hold it up for him to see. Together we move faster, pushing through snow that’s rapidly getting deeper, stumbling our way toward that little red light.
Fifteen feet, I’m guessing, from the side of the lodge, we find him. After we clear away the snow, we find Toast curled up in a ball under two rocks that formed a miniature cave. Cooper reaches for him, then shouts, “He’s alive!” He unzips his coat, tucks him in there, then zips it back up and cradles him there. We tug on the rope until we’re all back together, then make our way against the wind back to the lodge.
When we get back to the deck, I see Alan first. He’s slowly and steadily pulling the rope, helping Fran, Laurel, and Isaac up the snow filled stairs and onto the deck. They tug me up next, and finally Coop. We all stumble into the lodge in a snowy, cold mess, and slam the door on the storm behind us. Owen and Danksbury are gripping each other’s hands, their eyes wide and afraid, but chins lifted. With shaking hands, Coop unzips his coat, reaches in, and pulls out a loud, shivering black ball of fluff.
“Toast!” Owen runs and grabs him, crying and cuddling him. He carries him over to the fire where he all but rocks the kitten back and forth and mumbles an unintelligible string of something to him. I glance up at Coop, who pulls me into his arms. “Stronger together.”